


Mess

by randomfatechidna



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationship, Angst, Gen, Repercussions of Abuse, angst like whoa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomfatechidna/pseuds/randomfatechidna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Dean thinks about having children. Other times, he can't face what he'd become.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mess

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Mess](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4966162) by [whynothulk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whynothulk/pseuds/whynothulk)



> This just fell out and I have no idea where it came from.

It's not that Dean never wanted to have kids, it's that even if he did, he'd never be able to shake the feeling that he would mess them up. Permanently. Sure, Bobby and Sam had faith in him, they've told him in their own ways that he's done a better job at raising Sam than their father ever did, and that he couldn't mess anyone up unless they had severely pissed him off. To be honest, that was probably what he was scared of. He was scared that any child of his might be too scared of him to properly love him. He was scared of being too blindly drunk that he couldn't remember the fear on his children's faces in the morning. He was scared that instead of being a father, he'd turn out like his own: he'd discipline his children instead of loving them.

All too well Dean could remember the pain of being slapped across the face and having to keep the sobs in. Having to last that half hour before John would allow him to retreat to his room. Even then, Dean would do anything to hide the pain from Sam. The countless times he had claimed that he ran into something, he got into a fight after school etc., to hide the monster inside his father. He would make anything up to protect his father and it had been so common Dean thought nothing of it. Secretly, he hoped that next time his father would find a less conspicuous place to hit, so Dean wouldn't have to hide it so well.  
And even after all of this, Dean found ways to love the man. He couldn't help admiring his father, and maybe that's what scared him the most. There wasn't a week that passed that Dean thought about how lucky he was to have a hero for a father, someone who actually saved people. Like a twisted Superman. Dean hated the man for every red mark that crossed his face, but he couldn't stop loving him. He couldn't stop thinking how awesome everyone who knew John thought he was. Dean couldn't help agreeing. Sam, all this time, was oblivious to what was happening.

There was a time, a short time, that Dean wondered if maybe he wasn't such a bad child, he wouldn't get hit. So, there was a time, a very short time, when Dean made it his one object and mission to do everything his father asked of him every day of the week, the way John wanted him to do it. For some reason, that didn't stop John. He would still rage in the dead of night. He would still complain that both of his sons were disobedient and not the sons he wanted. He would still take it out on Dean.

That's when Dean forgot about improving himself, and focused on improving his brother. Sam needed to be protected. Sam couldn't be afflicted with what was going on with Dean. Sam needed to live in his sweet ignorance until Dean found a way to get him out. Until then, Dean tried to make his brother more obedient and told him day in and day out to follow what Dad says or else he'll get angry. None of that phased Sam, and he continued to live constantly defying his father and brother. Dean wondered that if maybe Sam knew that with each complaint that spilled from his mouth, a calloused hand would strike Dean's face, Sam would be more obedient.

Sometimes, Dean would let on that something was wrong. Sometimes, he would frown a little or smile too much and Sam would catch on, asking all the wrong questions. Dean wanted to tell him: no, I'm not worried about Dad; Yes, He's going to come back, but he couldn't find the courage. Instead, he let Sam think that everything was okay, because that was the point, wasn't it? Keep Sam safe and get him out before his father started to hurt Sam, too.

And it worked, for a while. Dean would go out for hunts with his Dad, and cop the shit his Dad would hand to him in a drunken rage. It worked: Sam went to school, up to his neck in homework when he got home. The poor nerd knew nothing, constantly complained about having to move every other week, and never got hurt. Dean took it when his father berated him for a list of things he and his brother had done wrong and he took it silently. He took it and left. 

Sometimes, and Dean really didn't need Sam to tell him prompted it, Sam would sleep in his bed. They were always a couple of inches apart from each other, or whatever the bed of the day allowed, but Sam would climb in, swallowing back sobs, and they would rest together. Some weeks it was all nights in a row, some weeks only two or three days. Some weeks Sam would be crying, some weeks it would be both of them. The whole time Dean knew what it was. And every time it made him angrier.

One night, Dean fought back. He fought back and, damn him, that was the happiest he had been in ten years. He was proud of himself, maybe way more proud than he should have been. He locked his drunken father out of the motel room, broken and in tears, but Dean was having none of it. Dean found himself lighter and happier and he couldn't wait to tell Sam that we wouldn't have to cry tonight.

It wasn't until he was brushing his teeth that he wondered if this elation, his pride, was exactly what his father felt after he would reduce his sons to tears each night. He wondered if he was becoming his father in fighting back. He wondered if by ignoring his father's moans from outside the door, he was exactly like his father when Dean would plead for him to stop, no more. Dean didn't tell Sam that he beat Dad up.

Dean told himself that he wouldn't have kids. Not ever. He wouldn't become the man his father was. He wouldn't - couldn't hurt anyone like he had been hurt despite the rage, despite the burn for revenge flaming within him. He would stay solitary and alone. He wouldn't let himself even get to the point where he would consider having kids. He didn't want to mess anyone up. He didn't want them to fear him, instead of love him. 

Maybe it's good that he never had a chance to screw anyone up, Dean thinks. Maybe he can just keep moving around with his brother. City to city, town to town, forgetting the nightmares that haunted them. Maybe he can keep those years to himself and pretend - pretend, because it's a lie. Maybe he can pretend that he isn't the person his father was and that he is not the person Dean's going to become.


End file.
